


Heaven Hide Your Eyes

by jawnslulluby21



Series: Only The Good Die Young [1]
Category: Roger Taylor/Brian May - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawnslulluby21/pseuds/jawnslulluby21
Summary: Moody atmospheric modern day AU drama of Vampire Brian May who is drawn to University student and musician Roger Taylor.  Slow burn.
Relationships: Assorted fictional characters, Brian May/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: Only The Good Die Young [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594687
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> Stay with me on This moody drama involving a longing Vampire and a very free University student.

Rain.  
It was the kind of moisture that opened the wet earth and allowed the very unique smells to assault the senses. Earthworms. Grass roots. Mineral deposits. Animal carcasses. It was the latter smell that assaulted Brian May’s senses. He pulled up the collar of his shirt and turned his head sideways sticking his nose into the freshly laundered fabric To inhale deeply. Brian continued to walk like this, the scent of the laundry detergent grounding him against retching over the pungent smells that humans could not detect.   
So many people on the busy walks going into Soho but Brian moved through the crowd with ease. This London was so very different from The London Brian had grown up in and plied his trade as a headmaster at an exclusive school right in the center of these streets. He wasn’t sure which London he preferred but he had adapted. It was the only course of action he could take. Go on dying or get busy living isn’t that what Andy said in The Shawshank Redemption. Brian could honestly say he had done both in his lifetime.  
His destination loomed in front of him and he slowed his pace. Brian took a second to look both ways before crossing the street then loped easily through the crosswalk and up to the ornate doors of a book store called The Dungeon. Without announcing himself at the front desk where customers gathered to pay for their purchases, Brian walked back to the rear staircase and easily ascended it taking the stairs two at a time then sauntered down a small hallway to a simple black door and ducked inside. Brian practically threw himself over an upholstered red velvet chair and steepled his long slender fingers in front of him. His gaze focused on a slender red haired woman sitting behind a desk and when he spoke his accent was rich and cultured.  
“Hello Peaches. Shall we begin?”  
Peaches laughed. Brian had always loved her smile and giggle. It was like a series of chimes when you got a text alert on your phone.   
“Hello Brian. You’re early.”  
“You know I abhor tardiness.” He responded with an arch of one eyebrow. On a much older man it would have the desired sardonic response but on Brian, he of such a youthful face, the effect was lost.  
“Of course my love,” Peaches said opening the middle desk drawer and looking for a key. “I do know a few things about you.” She stood up, a slender waifish woman of undetermined age, and walked towards the hallway behind her desk. “Come on, Brian. I’ll take care of you.”  
Brian stood and followed her, feeling the familiar hunger start again.

***************************************************************************

‘Can you read my mind can you see in the snow and fiery demons all dance when you walk...’

“Fuck you, Roger! I’m tired of this constant bickering!”  
Roger Taylor looked up from his drum kit and idly twirled a drumstick. He wore a bored expression on his young face and amusement danced in his blue eyes.   
“Then agree with me, Freddie! That’s all you have to do.” Roger leaned back and smirked.  
“This is... nonsense.” Freddie Mercury slammed his lyric sheets down on the music stand and wrapped his arms around himself as if to insulate from Roger’s attitude. “We don’t agree on anything and what’s worse is our guitarist is fucking late. Again.” With an exaggerated sigh the lead singer of Smile turned to face the young man holding his bass standing to Freddie’s right. “And what say you, Deaky? Any opinion.”   
The younger man looked like wanted the earth to swallow him up. He shook his head indicating no and bent his head to concentrate on fooling around with his bass.  
“Leave Deaky alone, Fred. It’s not his fault fucking Tim is late.” Roger stood and bent backwards flexing his muscles on his tiny frame. “You know I rather did like that one song what was it My Fairy King? That’s a keeper.”   
“Thank you, dear.” If there were any hard feelings from their earlier argument, Freddie didn’t show them.   
A click and subsequent opening of the door to their rehearsal space made the 3 band mates pause. All eyes were focused on the figure who came banging in guitar case in hand. He was a rather tallish man in his mid 20’s with a tendency to plumpness and a kind of rangy good looks about him. Tim Staffell had arrived.  
“You’re late,” Freddie said pointedly.   
“I’m on my own time, Fred.” Tim popped open his case and took out his guitar. He hooked it up to the leads then turned to face Roger who was still standing behind his kit. “Hello Roggie,” he sneered.  
Roger sighed and sat back down on his stool trying to ignore the taunting tone from his former boyfriend. It was total truth that one should not shag band mates bc once that relationship fizzled you were left with the aftermath. It was better to just ignore the taunt and after Freddie shot Roger a look Roger busied himself with reaching beside himself to where his jacket lay. He reached inside the jean jacket and groped until his fingers found the familiar box of his cigarettes.   
“Are we ready to get busy now?” Freddie asked with a tone that dripped of sarcasm. Roger sighed and ditched the idea of smoking.   
“Any time,” Tim answered.  
“From the Top then,” Roger said and counted down the song, finding the rhythm easily, his slender arms taking care of the drum sounds ably. Tim was sufficient though lagged behind on the crucial chorus. Freddie shot him daggers and somehow they muddled through it.  
“Sounds like we need more practice time,” the slender dark haired lead singer said.   
“If people would care enough to be on time,” Roger sniped. He reached for his cigarettes not seeing what Tim was doing.  
“Fuck you, Roggie.” Tim grabbed the little drummer’s arm in a vicious grip. Roger instinctively tried to pull away but Tim held fast. In the background Deaky and Freddie watched. “You’re such a little slutbag that I’m surprised you can stand upright since your usual position is on your back.”  
Roger spit at him which elicited Tim letting go Of Roger to wipe his face. The look he gave Roger was one that promised there would be consequences but Roger with his false bravado lit up a Marlboro and inhaled, smoke curling to his lungs and chemicals soothing his jangled nerves.   
“Fuck off Tim.” Roger blew lazy smoke rings as Tim seethed. “Let’s do another song.”  
“Watch yourself Rog,” Tim snarled.   
“Let’s just do this,” Freddie said brightly although he was worried about Tim and the repercussions afterward. Freddie had had a front row seat being Roger’s flatmate for the last 2 years. He had prepared plenty of ice packs when Roger had come home after being with the mercurial guitarist. With a happy tone he truly did not feel, Freddie counted down the intro to ‘Jesus.’  
Once again, Tim fell behind. He was too busy planning his solo imagining he was already in front of the Student Union crowd in the upcoming Saturday night gig. Roger grew annoyed with the Fractured guitar stuttering and quit playing which caused a chain reaction of John sputtering the bass to a halt and Freddie just giving up. Tim swore and angrily whirled around to glare at Roger.  
“Now what, ya little whore?”   
Roger looked at Tim coolly. The man held no sway over him. They weren’t together any longer and Roger was tired of walking on eggshells.   
“If your heart isn’t in it why not just quit the band, Tim?” Roger snorted “We can find another G man.”  
Freddie and John gasped out loud, wondering what was going to happen. They looked first at Tim then at Roger.   
“Alright you little whore. I’ll quit.” Angrily he pulled the leads from the amps and carried his guitar over to its’ case. He was laughing in a very creepy way and the other 3 stayed out of his way.   
“Good. Don’t come round any more either.” Roger lit another cigarette. He was a bit uneasy as he knew Tim was giving up far too easily yet he was very happy that the older man was leaving the band.   
“Don’t worry I won’t.” Tim flipped them off picked up his case and slammed out the door.   
For a moment it was quiet. Then Roger snorted.  
“What an ass.”   
“Among other things!” Deaky added, feeling brave now that Tim was gone.  
“I’m very happy but.... what are we going to do? We need a guitarist!” Freddie sighed dramatically. He sat on the stool in front of his spot and shook his head.  
“I’ll put an ad out,” said Roger brightly. Oh the relief he felt now that Tim was no longer around. “There’s gotta be at least 300 guitarists on this campus alone!”  
“Hope you’re right, Roger.” Freddie shrugged. “Might as well go home now.”  
“I’ll write up the ad!” Roger said.

TheIr flat was always cold.   
Roger shivered as he shrugged his coat off and threw it towards the direction of the closet off the hallway. Freddie caught the coat and hung it on the hook on the wall and continued after Roger. Living with the young drummer for the last 2 years had given Freddie a lot of insight into the mind and actions of one Roger Meddows Taylor. Freddie could almost predict what the slender student was going to do next and sure enough, Roger scurried down the hall to his bedroom and emerged within seconds with his favourite blanket, a Sherpa infused quilt that carried a kind of Navajo pattern on one side and a plain maroon on the other. His journey continued to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of Jack from the counter, gathered an ashtray and ended up on the couch in their living room.   
“I see you’re set for the night, Darling,” Freddie said.   
“Yep. I’m happy it’s break so there’s no exams. Want to catch some Telly?” Roger lit a cigarette and lazily blew out a smoke ring.   
“I want to write so I’ll be in my room, dear.” Freddie sighed and shook his head. He wondered if Roger, his wild child best friend and band mate, would ever change.  
Roger watched Freddie glide down the hall. The man had so much freaking style that it oozed from his pores. Roger often felt so inadequate next to his flamboyant friend. Freddie had the looks and charm and could bat his eyelashes and get anyone and anything he wanted. Roger, on the other hand, was like a clumsy puppy in comparison. He was always coughing too much or tripping and skinning a knee or cutting himself on the stupidest things! He had asthma, bad eyesight, light sensitive pupils and had stopped growing any taller when he hit the age of 16.   
Roger’s choice of boyfriends was also a huge factor in his life. Though girls were enjoyable~and Roger had had more than a few of them since he turned 13~Roger was drawn to men. He loved the feel of sinewy muscles dominating him and the complete abandonment that a hard cock against his lip or a rough skinned finger probing his tight hole brought him. He could not understand, however, that the men he chose never wanted to have more than a one night knock off with him.   
Fuck it. Roger lit a cigarette and poured himself a couple fingers of Jack. Time to just sit in the dark wrapped up like a mummy and turn off his brain.  
***************************************************************************

‘I did my best, it wasn’t much, I couldnt feel, so I tried to touch I’ve told the truth I didn’t come to fool you...’

Brian stared at the glass of wine that he was holding up to the light. The resin was settling to the bottom and he gave the glass a little shake. Dinner time. Brian ordered the prawns in sweet chili sauce with risotto cream and grilled carrots. Savouring the food was one of his biggest pleasures and the meal did not disappoint. So good. He left a tip for the cook and one for his server, placing the bills in a neat folded pile in the bill card, grabbed his long black coat and buttoned up against the chill outside. Not that Brian was susceptible to a chill; it had been A very long time since he had warmed up his aching fingers in front of a roaring hearth.   
Always rejuvenated after a session with Peaches, Brian decided to walk to his home and observe the night. His eyesight was extraordinary so he could see better than all around him.   
As Brian strolled past the reflective windows of some of the trendy stores, he avoided looking at himself. It was not a matter of ego but more a matter of modesty. Enough women and men had praised him and complimented him on his height and how slender he was. His features were aristocratic—a fine aquiline nose, high cheekbones, hazel eyes, and full lips graced his face while his hair was a mop of dark soft curls that spilled over the collar of his shirts.  
Brian inhaled deeply; the rain had done its’ job of cleaning the air. London was just a multilayered smell-a-Rama.   
Brian was leaving the commercial section of the city and striding through to where the residential section began with its many flats and apartments. He ignored all of the noises he could hear as he walked past the apartment buildings. It was a skill he had acquired through years of practice and the commotion no longer bothered him. The same thing with the smells— Brian could effectively sort out what he didn’t want and include what he did. At any rate it was a nice evening for a stroll. The moon was casting some light after the rain clouds dispersed making shadows dance along the walkways.

Roger had had enough of Telly and drinking. He was pleasantly buzzed so he stood and on slightly shaky legs he took the bottle and his glass out to the kitchen. As he passed the window in the kitchen Roger could see the moon was out and the rain had finally stopped. He wondered if it was cold outside then realized he didn’t really care so he grabbed his cigarettes and pulled the quilt around himself. The balcony was just off the living room so Roger padded outside and settled in to a chair. The lights from the city blotted out the stars but the moon hung low in the sky and was strangely luminescent.  
Roger shrugged off the quilt and stood against the rail, head tilted up. There was no warmth in the night but the rain had washed away the normal odors of the day. He reached up in a vain attempt to touch the moon and closed his eyes.

Brian stopped and inhaled sharply. My Gods what was that pure aroma he was smelling? Looking around feverishly, Brian’s gaze was finally drawn upwards. There, on the balcony of an unknown flat was an angel. The angel, blessed with long blonde curling locks and pale skin, was reaching upwards as if to catch the moon. Brian could make out long eyelashes framing brilliant blue eyes. His body was slender and small; light as a feather Brian thought. The boy was so beautiful that he made Brian ache in such a way as he had not felt in a long time. Brian wanted to shout out, to ask the angel’s name, to find out every little detail about him. A sob escaped his throat unbidden though it was and his angel looked down, disturbed from his task.  
“Hello?”   
Brian ducked into the shadows feeling slightly ashamed like he’d interrupted something off color. Again the boy called out but Brian remained out of sight.   
Roger frowned and picked up the quilt. With one last puzzled look to the street below, he opened the balcony doors and went inside to call it a night.  
Brian stepped out to the sidewalk when he heard the balcony door slide shut and lock.  
It had been a long day.  
Brian’s bed waited at the Hotel Mayfair.  
Tomorrow would be another day to find out more about his Angel.  
For now, it was time for both of them to sleep.


	2. Maelstrom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now the sun’s gone to hell  
> And the moon’s riding high  
> Let me bid you farewell  
> Every man has to die.  
> —Dire Straits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first Maylor effort.

1878 London England

“Did you see that the post brought you a ticket to attend the Grand Launching of the Tube, Dr. May? Ohh such an event! I myself can not fathom traveling underground like that!”   
The young headmaster smiled fondly at Winnie, his housekeeper.  
“Perhaps it is a good thing that the builders of such a marvel did not listen to you. Fortune favors the bold after all.” Brian set his tea cup in the saucer and sat back in his chair. He was happy to have had this week off from his duties As Headmaster to the Granville School of Refined Young Men, or Grandy as it was called for short. It had been a hot summer and today was no exception so to relax and read a good book in the garden out back would be lovely, after, that is, seeing the first underground Tube demonstration!  
“Imagine, though, going under the earth in a railway car!” Winnie tutted whisking the remains of Brian’s breakfast away.   
“It is though a specialty built rail car, my dear. One that has been built specifically to travel for exactly that purpose.”  
“Either way,” Winnie said with a shake of her head,”you wouldn’t catch me under the earth!”  
“I will be sure to tell you exactly what it is like then,” Brian retorted.  
“Well then run along and experience it!” Winnie patted her young master’s hand. “It’s for the young and certainly not like someone like me.”  
Brian rose and finished blotting his lips with his napkin. He supposed he should take advantage of a bathroom stop before joining the crowd to marvel at the engineering wonder. A few minutes later and the tall slender young man who had just seen his 28th birthday found his top hat and bid a farewell to Winnie.  
“I shall be back for dinner. Don’t feel you have to fuss!” He called. Then he was off on foot to view what Peter Barlow and James Henry Greathead, principal inventors, had concocted.

Brian made the walk to the demonstration platform at the Tower Subway station within a half hour. He walked at a brisk pace trying to ignore the heat that was omnipresent on this day the second of August. Blessed with long legs and youthful zeal iBrian didn’t mind terribly going without a carriage ride, plus he was able to greet the many people he knew on the streets as he passed by them.  
His position as Headmaster allowed him a wealth of acquaintances some good some bad all useful in networking up the ladder. With his good looks and charm, Brian had become quite the favourite of young British society and he liked his place in the upper echelons of London. As he neared the queue for the staging platform, he dug out his invitation and held it in his hand ready to show the constables that were stationed around the wooden structure.  
“Excuse me please but I do have an invitation you see, and would like it if you would be so kind as to direct me where I should go.” Brian presented the typed parchment square to one of the uniformed men.  
“Ah, I see lad.” With a nod of his head and a finger pointing towards a set of steps, the man showed Brian where to go.  
“Many thanks.” Brian slid by a small crowd of ladies, making sure to tip his hat genially, and ascended the steps.  
There were maybe 20 men beside himself on the platform and Brian tucked his invitation away so he could have both hands free to introduce himself. The other fellows were all very congenial and after a round of introductions, Brian listened eagerly to the inventors.  
“This is just a demonstration until November when officially things will happen,” said Peter Barlow with a smile. “Imagine this as the first step towards transportation for all underneath the streets!”  
Brian felt a wave of excitement. He was certainly a student of Maths and Sciences and could easily dream of many more advancements in technology. He turned to wander further down the staging area to get a look at the engine that was designed to follow the rails beneath the earth when he accidentally bumped into someone.  
“Sorry excuse me,” Brian muttered but was met with a grip on his arm from the man he had accidentally bumped.   
“Not a problem. Such a busy place here.”  
The man reminded Brian of a feral cat. He was dressed to the nines but his hat looked quite battered in comparison to the rest of his outfit. Squinty dark eyes looked Brian up and down as the late afternoon sun caught the sharpness of the man.’s features. Brian instinctively moved away shaking his arm loose of the grip.  
“Yes it is very busy indeed but with good reason. Excuse me, sir.” Brian hastily made his way towards another small cluster of men who were discussing the merits of how Mayfield was untouched by the glut of immigrants with most of them settling in near Soho. Brian listened and tried to shake off the vibes he felt just at that small exchange with the stranger. Even the man’s teeth looked sharp and pointed in the sunlight. Brian shuddered involuntarily and cast a look over his shoulder to find no trace of the stranger. Brian sighed with relief and spent the rest of the ceremony thoroughly immersed in the wonders of tunnel travel done with engines.

His Headmaster residence was a perk he received gratefully and Brian loved the 3 story building with its’ old architecture and columns. His bedroom, complete with working telescope, was on the Very top floor and afforded Brian a glorious view of the skies, even though at times they were murky with chimney smoke in the colder weather. But now in the summer, Brian could easily spend hours looking out at the bright stars and moon and planets that were so far away. He often wondered what the moon was like and what it would be like to live there. He never shared his ideas as he had been laughed at in the past when he’d brought up theories and thoughts to exploring the heavens. These ideas he maintained in a journal that he kept locked in his desk in his bedroom. It wasn’t that he distrusted Winnie to find it; the woman was like a mother to him. No, it was just the very fact that Brian had been teased and scoffed at from a very young age for having had some modern ideas. His private thoughts now were just that—private.   
So on this balmy night, Brian climbed the narrow stairs carefully carrying his telescope and pushed open the heavy shutters that protected the stairwell from the outside. With a grunt of exertion, Brian pulled himself up on the slate surface and placed his telescope and stand beside him. Sitting cross legged now, long legs tucked up, Brian set up his telescope and secured the base. The moon was resplendent this night and cast yellow light that helped Brian see what he was doing. Base steady, Brian eagerly looked through the scope, muttering to himself as he observed the different wonders of the universe. So beautiful, he thought!  
He heard Big Ben gong out the hour and was surprised that it was already 1 am. Where had the time gone? Shifting now because his leg had started to cramp, Brian thought that perhaps he should go inside and jot down some of his observations in his journal. Yes that was exactly what he would do then.  
Before Brian could stand up he heard a rustling sound from the casements behind him. Well that in itself was not odd. Perhaps pigeons wanted to share his roost. Brian turned his head to speak but his breath caught in his throat. He felt something not right...truly evil in fact and he shuddered, scrambling to rise and grab his telescope from its’ perch.   
“Don’t be in a hurry, Boy.”  
Brian froze. The voice.... it was the man at the platform!   
“What...what do you want? See here this is my residence and I can stay up here as I like!” Brian’s voice, despite his words, betrayed him by coming out a bit strangled. Brian was still trying to pull his telescope from the stand not even entertaining the notion that there would be someone on this roof beside himself.   
“Ah lad I got a proper sniff of ya. And I gotta say you’re a tasty morsel.”   
Brian pulled the shutters open. A few more feet and he would be inside! Dear God let him be quick!   
“You aren’t going inside. I got my instructions.” The man was nearly on top of Brian now and extended what looked like claws but oh God that was impossible!   
“Get away from me you abhorrent vision of hell!” Brian screamed now almost inside the house.   
“You ain’t seen hell yet.”  
Brian’s last vision that evening was the man’s claws hooking on to Brian’s shirt and then blackness enveloped him.

“Would you like some wine? It might make the evening a bit better for you.”  
Brian stirred and opened his eyes. He was staring at a gilded ceiling with paintings on it, although the scenes depicted were not of cherubs and fancy courtesans. There were sinister looking devils and men being tortured, their mouths open in pain. Brian sat up quickly looking around and ascertained that he was on a bed .   
“Where am I? And who are you?” Brian asked angrily. “And where is that horrid little gnome of a man? Did he bring me here?”  
“Ohhh so many questions. So very many questions.”   
Brian focused on the man as he brought over a glass of wine and stared at the goblet in the man’s hand.  
“Private stock from Firenze. Please. Have a sip.”  
“It’s drugged,” Brian said with a tone of disgust.   
“No...no it’s not.” He pushed the ornate glass in Brian’s hand. “Drink. That’s an order not a request, Dr. May.”  
Brian reluctantly opened his hand to accept the wine and took a sip all the while watching his host. The man was tall and well built with dark glossy hair cut sensibly and a rather angular face.  
“Do you like what you see?” The man asked. Brian held his gaze from over the rim of the cup.  
“I am being held against my will. I demand you take me home at once!” Brian trued to sound as stern as he could.  
“My child,” the man chuckled but it was a sound without humor,” that is not going to happen until we—you and me— are done.”  
“Done? What do you mean ‘done’”? Brian felt a chill run through him.  
“Give me the glass, mon enfant. Come on that’s it.”  
“You lied!” Brian said suddenly feeling very light headed. “The wine is dr-dr-dr-“  
“Of course I did.”   
“What..... who.....who...” Brian stuttered weakly.  
“My name is not important my beautiful one.” The man pulled Brian up by his shoulders so the young man was laying in the middle of the bed with his head on a pillow.  
“Please.... please...” Brian begged. He was not certain what was going to happen but he wanted nothing to do with this man in this house in this bed “oh!” He felt fingers rake nails over his now exposed nipples. “No please-“  
“It will be best to just accept what is happening. If you fight I will have to hurt you and I don’t want to mark one place on your precious body save one.”  
Brian moaned now though he was sure his body was betraying him.  
“No please don’t...” another rake of his nipples another moan. Where had his shirt gone?  
“So beautiful and pale like a god.” The man pulled Brian’s shirt off over Brian’s head and began to stroke Brian’s sides with those impossibly long nails. Brian smelled wine and cologne and death.   
Brian’s trousers were next and pants too gone in one swoop. He was naked on the bed, skin like alabaster, long limbs askew, his cock half erect. Brian opened his mouth and was about to protest but a finger entered between his lips and he beard a satisfied hiss above him. The finger poked at his mouth and Brian heard the command to suck. He tried to bite down but his efforts earned him a painful slap on his upper thighs. Again he heard the command—“suck.”   
Brian sucked and heard a satisfied hum from his assailant. With a pop the finger was out of his mouth and was now smoothing back his dark curls from his neck.  
Heavy useless legs were now spread. Brian felt cold from being exposed and he shivered then screamed as a finger rammed into his virgin hole. The pain was so intense he almost fainted but slaps on his face made him stay conscious.   
Dear God he was being raped.   
He was powerless.  
Another finger joined in the probing and he screamed again the tight heat friction pulling and tearing. Above him he could hear the man chuckling and whispering words in a foreign language that was nothing that Brian recognized. Suddenly something thick and cold was forcing its way inside of Brian’s tortured hole. Brian tried to move away but his muscles would not respond. The pain was intense and he cried out breath coming in sobbing waves of misery. He heard his assailant breathe deeply and the thrusting began, Brian helpless to stop the intrusion that felt like it consumed his whole body.  
“No no no no...”  
“ stop resisting mon enfant. Ah you are delicious. So much innocence. I take yours and you will steal someone else’s one day.”  
“Never ...like...you...” Brian sobbed as the relentless full cold pressure filled him to his very soul. He shuddered as the pain made him cross some kind of threshold in his foggy brain. He moved his hips to accept his punishment bc somehow he had done wrong in his life. The hard cock in his ass was now hitting his prostate with a relentless pressure. Oh God no he wrapped his legs around his rapist, body moving and accepting. He was a sacrifice he was a lamb to slaughter he was willing oh God he was responding  
“My darling. Watching you come undone is the best. Simply the best.” Thrust move thrust move thrust  
Delicious pain enveloped Brian. He was red hot sailing over the moon breathing heart beating falling falling  
His cock sputtered milky white ropes of cum  
He arched his back feeling heat run through his whole body and liquid like molten lava fill his pores and   
Teeth  
Teeth sinking deeply into his neck.  
Drinking.   
Drinking.  
Heart beats slower  
Slow  
Slow   
More thrusting such a good feeling  
Brian held on to his lover now gasping and feeling  
Seeing red  
Lights and sound were moving away and Brian watched his life fading away.  
Dark tunnel. No light no light   
Death.

“Master Brian?”   
Knock knock knock.  
Brian groaned feeling his throat constrict in pain. He opened one eye and ascertained he was in his room in his house.  
What?  
Foggy memories nagged at his mind.  
“Master? Are you all right?”   
It was Winnie.   
Brian groaned and slid over to the side of the bed. His throat hurt, throbbed even, and his anus ached with fire. Brian reached up to his throat and recoiled when his fingers touched the side of his neck. Fuck that burned.   
“I’m fine,” Brian croaked. “Just overslept.” He pulled his robe on then stopped suddenly When he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. “Oh my God.” Brian staggered towards the mirror and shook his head in disbelief.   
Dried blood surrounded his collar and stuck to his neck. His eyes were wild and bloodshot and his hair was matted and hanging in clumps. His white shirt was torn and hanging in pieces.  
“You haven’t answered me in 2 days.” There was a shuffling outside the door and Brian heard her set the tray down. “You come down after you eat, Sir.”  
“ Yes. Yes I will.” Brian watched as a red tear rolled down his cheek. 

It took Brian a whole day to get himself together enough to come downstairs in his house. Winnie looked at him like he was some kind of pariah and subsequently quit two days after Brian had woke up to her knocking on his door. It took all of his efforts to eat something and even then he threw up everything he swallowed. He was sick and restless at the same time and spent a whole evening pacing back and forth in his study talking to himself. The answer was right in front of him yet he could not admit it.  
By the third day of being awake, Brian was famished. He could still not face what he knew instinctively that he had to do but just could not do it. He had had no teacher nor any tutor yet all he could think about was to bite and feed. He bathed, put on fresh clothes and grabbed his cloak. Just as his hand was on the handle of his door he was startled by a knocking. Brian debated on opening the door. Just who would be coming to see him at this hour?   
Sighing, Brian decided to open the door.  
“Hello Dr. May. I believe you’ must be hungry. I think I could help you.”  
“Who... who are you?” He stuttered staring at the slight figure in his doorway. She pulled the cloak off her head to reveal red locks that tumbled past her shoulders. She smiled showing sharp canines. Brian felt like he was sucker punched as all the air seemed to leave his body.  
“My name is Peaches.”


	3. Axis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All alone ain’t much fun so you’re looking for the thrill  
> And you know just what it takes and where to go...
> 
> —DD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping you are still along after that last chapter!

Roger woke up wrapped in his favorite quilt. He stretched and yawned then flinched, letting out a soft ouch. He traced careful fingers to the sight of the blooming pain and realized that it was where Tim had roughly grabbed him the day before. Dammit! Roger got up and padded towards his bathroom. The nice thing about the apartment he shared with Freddie was that they each had their own bathrooms. Roger had seen Freddie’s domain—towels hanging all over, makeup and product stacked on the shelves, and rugs scattered here and there. Roger was not the neatest dude but he kept his bathroom clean and organized.   
A quick shower and some product on his hair made Roger feel human. He dressed in a pair of faded Levi’s that fit him like a second skin and he threw on a silky iridescent striped blouse he had bought at the Kensington stall market a few days before. It barely covered his midriff and Roger turned and preened in the mirror pleased that the blouse revealed Just a hint of his firm abs. The bruise on his arm dully ached and during his shower Roger had seen the angry purple red bloom right near his bicep. Fucking Tim.   
No sign of Freddie yet. Roger put the kettle on, debated over having a cigarette, and looked around for something to eat. Neither one of them was exactly Julia Child. And apparently neither one of them remembered that the cupboards were bare. Oh well.   
Roger poured the water into the loose tea container in his cup and carefully took that out to place in the sink. He sniffed the milk in the carton—no chunks! That was a good sign— poured some into his tea then added a few spoons of sugar. Yum.   
Freddie came shuffling down the hall to the kitchen and dramatically slid into a chair.   
“Hello Darling. Sleep well?”   
Roger shrugged and nodded. “Tea?” He got up and pointed towards the kettle. Freddie nodded and Roger made him a cup of tea too, skipping the milk because Freddie just liked sugar, 2 teaspoons full thank you.  
“Need some ice for your arm?” Freddie asked. Roger was surprised that Freddie knew. “I see the way you’re favouring that arm. It’s not rocket science,”   
“I’ll get some after we finish here.” Roger yawned and suddenly remembered that they were without a guitarist. “Fuck I gotta get that ad written up and posted!” He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. We need paper and pen.”   
“Try looking in my desk!”   
Roger rummaged around and found just what he needed. Triumphantly he waved it over his head and scuttled back to the table. “Ok we need to make this eye catching! “ Roger started to draw a guitar although it looked a bit cartoony in an Anime sort of way. The blonde was bent over the paper, pen held tightly, tongue sticking out just a little as he concentrated. Freddie smiled to himself and shook his head. Roger and he might have their disagreements but they loved each other like 2 brothers.  
“How is that?” Roger held up the paper. He had made perforations with His mobile phone number on each slip. “Is that good?”  
Freddie nodded and grinned. “You really have a knack for art. Ever think of changing majors?”   
“Eh I’m not good enough.”  
Freddie shook his head. Roger was always putting himself down yet in other ways he was la complete idiot Getting into other peoples’ faces and starting actual fisticuffs.   
“Ok gonna take this down and put it in the music building. On my way back I’ll pick up some smokes and food.” Roger stood and slipped on his pink glitter Converses then winked at Freddie. “Hopefully we will find someone who can play guitar better than that asshole Tim.”  
“I hope so, Dear.” Freddie watched Roger grab his coat and saunter down the hallway. “See you in a bit Roggie.”

Roger skipped down the back path that led to the main campus feeling like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. No putting up with Tim and his sadistic ways and fucked up guitar playing. Roger hoped that Smile would find a guitarist who not only knew how to play but to be in tune, so to speak, with the rest of the band.  
The short cut took Roger to the back of the Student Hub building and from there it was a quick dash through to the Music Labs. Because school was not currently in session, there weren’t a lot of students hanging around. The snack bar was open, however, a fact that Roger squirreled away for his return trip.   
He walked around to the west entrance and through the revolving doors that led outside. Only a short jaunt now, he thought.   
“Whatcha doing Roggie?”  
Roger froze. He was trying to think through the panic that was rising in his throat like bile. If he was quick he could sprint to the Music Lab and get inside where he hoped there would be SOMEONE practicing! Tim was coming down the walkway that was obscured by evergreen shrubs so Roger did the only thing he could do.  
He ran.   
Tim was close behind him trying to grab the back of Roger’s coat. The little drummer let out a yelp and shrugged off his coat as he reached the doors of the Lab. He was just about to congratulate himself on eluding his abusive ex when to his horror he realized the doors were locked! Fuck! Roger turned and scuttled past one of the guys who hung with Tim but unfortunately ran right into Tim.   
“Gotcha!” Tim threw Roger’s coat over the smaller man’s head and started to Randomly punch areas on Roger’s body. The first Punch hit Roger square in the shoulder eliciting a cry; the second caught him in the head right at the temple.  
“St-st-stop Tim! I’m sorry!” Roger cried.  
“Ok Tim that’s cool let him go,” said Tim’s pal, the one Roger had eluded at the locked doors.   
“Shut up, Charlie.” Tim threw another hard punch this one landing on Roger’s hip. By this time, Roger was sobbing. “After I’m done I’m gonna take you over there and fuck you, you slut, because that’s what you deserve,” Tim grunted through clenched teeth. The more he hit Roger the more his own high kicked in; as a sadist, he played the role well.  
Suddenly to Roger’s surprise there was silence.   
Tim was gone.   
Roger carefully extracted himself from under his coat thinking perhaps this was just another trick in Tim’s arsenal. His head and shoulder throbbed with his hip soon joining the chorus. There was no sign of Tim or his posse. “Hello?” Roger said tentatively. Nothing. It was if they had never been there at all.  
Puzzled, Roger slipped his coat back on and walked around the building to the main doors. With every step, his hip protested and by the time he entered the Lab, Roger was limping. Still no sign of Tim. Huh. What the fuck?   
Roger pinned up the paper he’d made on the bulletin board and took a step back. His guitar art was certainly an eye catcher. “Here’s to hoping,” Roger whispered.   
He decided to stick to the main streets on his return just in case Tim was waiting for him again. Roger stopped briefly at the convenience center and got some sandwiches, pop, crisps and brownies that looked delicious. Realizing too late that he had left his smokes back at the flat, Roger busied his hands with carrying the tote bags in between rubbing his sore spots.

Tim had been waiting for Roger ever since he’d seen the blonde leave his flat. He had followed at a distance and put two and two together when he realized where Roger was heading as he left the Student Center. It was easy to run around the back and wait until Roger discovered the doors were locked. The look on the kid’s face was priceless. And as Tim was throwing those 3 punches he had felt himself harden with excitement. Nothing said fuck me like some well aimed closed fisted hits!   
Suddenly Tim was airborne. He was in fact headed right towards the outer wall of the Student Center where he met the bricks with a solid thud and not only broke a hand but suffered some facial contusions that he would discover when he finally came to. His friends met a similar fate. There would be no more beatings for a long while.  
Brian took deep breaths to calm down as he surveyed the three men laying with their limbs akimbo. How dare this...creature...touch the blonde angel? Brian was not sure how badly the young man was hurt but decided to follow at a distance.  
When Brian saw the paper tacked up, he had taken it down and stuffed it in his jeans pocket after smelling it of course. And when Roger had stopped at the store, Brian loitered around the outside pretending to look for a ride he was expecting.   
Roger did not see him. Brian had not wanted Roger to see him so he had cast an unseen spell on the blonde. Not yet. Brian wanted to wait.   
Roger walked up to the flat and set the groceries down so he could get his keys out of his pocket. As he dug for them in the impossibly tight pockets of his pants his shirt rode up and Brian saw the expanse of pale flesh and smooth skin. Brian’s breath hitched in his throat. He wondered what that skin would feel like under his long fingers. The thought consumed him until he felt empty when Roger unlocked the door and went inside.


	4. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...’Someone’s knockin’ at the door somebody’s ringing the bell Do me a favour open the door and let ‘me in...’  
> PM

Freddie met Roger at the top of the stairs, keeping the door to their flat open so he could help the younger man with the groceries. When he saw the growing bruise on the side of Roger’s face, Freddie gasped.  
“What happened to you, Darling?” Freddie took one of the bags and stepped aside so Roger could enter the flat. “It’s obvious that I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute!” He was half joking.  
“Tim and his flunkies,” Roger answered just now feeling the effects of the cloak and dagger beating.  
“Dammit!” Freddie followed Roger to the kitchen and they started to empty the bags.  
“Good thing for me that security must have come to chase them away, else I’d probably be a lot worse for wear. Funny too that I heard nothing.” Roger frowned then unwrapped one of the sandwiches he’d purchased. It WAS funny wasn’t it , he asked himself. Strange really.  
“Didn’t you see what was going on?” The two friends sat down at their table and began to eat.  
“Tim had my coat over my head.” Roger shrugged then touched his face. It was starting to throb.  
“What a twat.” Freddie gently pushed Roger’s hand down. “We’ll ice that after we’re finished here.”  
Roger nodded. He was annoyed now that Tim had caught him and must have been waiting for him or even following him. There was something wrong with people like that. Roger decided that the word was crazy.  
“I hung our poster. Hope we get a response soon in time to practice for Saturday night.” Roger spread a napkin and dumped out his bag of crisps onto it. “Hoping we can find a bloke who sings as well. Tim couldn’t hold a note.”  
“Would it be too bad if I hoped we’d never see or hear from him again?” Freddie asked. Then with a dramatic sigh, the dark haired frontman leaned back into his chair. “Let’s face it. His obsession with you turned very dangerous.”  
Roger nodded. When he’d first started dating Tim, the warning signs were all there but in typical fashion, Roger had ignored them. He supposed he himself was a bit responsible for his situation.  
“I know what you’re thinking.” Freddie shook his head and waggled a finger at his friend and flatmate. “Now don’t you believe you deserved it! Nobody deserves to be hit or beaten.”  
“Eh.” Roger shrugged. His past experiences with either sex had not been the best. A product of an abusive father and a fractured home life, Roger had a bit of a victim streak. And although he vehemently denied that he tended to gravitate towards abusive partners, his track record told a different story.  
“So what should we do today—“ Freddie began.  
“—besides laundry?” Roger added.  
“Laundry and getting some ice on that bruise. Come on, you.”

Brian sat on a bench outside of a Pret-A-Manger in nearby Cambridge city center and took out the original post that Roger had stuck on the cork board at the Music Lab building. He took a minute to carefully smooth the paper then brought it surreptitiously to his face and inhaled. Ahhhh such a delicate scent! He felt his whole body react and for the sake of propriety, he folded it and replaced it in his coat pocket giving it a reassuring pat just because.  
So. Brian set his thoughts in order. He knew where Roger lived now and had saved the little blonde from an all out assault. The band that Roger belonged to also needed a guitarist, and it was fortunate that Brian played guitar. Well. There was no time like the present.  
With long elegant fingers Brian punched in the numbers on the perforated slip and waited for a response.  
“Hello.”  
“Good afternoon. I found your advertisement on the board at the uh music building and I am interested in applying for the vacant guitarist position,” Brian said.  
“Oh hey fantastic! Have you been in other groups and what’s your style?” Roger asked.  
Brian thought quickly. He had indeed been in other bands through the one hundred plus years he’d been around although the early ones were not exactly conducive to today’s styles.  
“I was involved in a rockabilly tribute band,” said Brian. “And some uh RollingStones slash Beatles style groups. Would that do?”  
“Do you have your own amps and guitars? I mean we have a Marshall stack you can use-“  
“-I DO have my own set up. When can I audition?” Oops, Brian thought, I jumped in too enthusiastically but Roger seemed non plussed.  
“Come around our practice space tomorrow at half past ten,” Roger said then went on telling Brian the address. “And your name?”  
“My name..OH! My name! Yes my name is Brian May.”  
“See ya tomorrow Brian May.”  
Brian cradled his mobile in his hand. He had connected! He felt something deep inside of him that he had not felt in so very long. Hope? Desire? Perhaps both. Sighing, the tall lanky guitarist leaned back and inhaled through his nose. Tomorrow seemed ages away so Brian decided to get a preview. He stood, arched his back into a stretch and used his mobile to call for an Uber.

Roger had finally fallen asleep after Freddie had insisted he ice the bruises on his body. Tim might have hit him through a coat but there was still force behind the punches and Roger’s body bore the fruit of those fist missiles. He had winced and grunted as Freddie applied the ice packs but in the end it was worth it as the bruises looked less prominent and sore.  
Leaving Roger to sleep on the couch, Freddie busied himself with laundry. How mundane, the dark haired singer thought, but nobody wanted to wear yesterday’s underwear. Thank the gods they had rented a flat with a washer and dryer combo. If they had to go to a laundromat, they probably WOULD be wearing yesterday’s underwear. And Freddie had had a good feeling when that new guitarist had rang them up. It was the start of something big for Smile, and even though Freddie had some tricks up his sleeve for the future, a new addition of someone they could all get along with was a promising sign. Freddie hoped this Brian May would be the answer to their biggest problem. Roger stirred and sat up, rubbing his face. “Ow.” “Let me get you some more ice,” Freddie offered but the little blonde shook his head no. “It’s ok. I’m wasting my day away. Hey you want pizza?” Roger wandered into the kitchen and opened the drawer where they kept the take away menus. “You know that might hit the spot,” Freddie said sailing down the hallway with a full basket of still warm dried clothes. “Dumping these on your bed, darling!” He called out. “Yeah yeah ok.” Roger called their favourite shop and placed the order, then set his phone timer so he’d know about what time delivery would get there. Even though he had eaten a few hours ago, he was hungry now. “You know, that dude who called to say he would practice with us sounded pretty normal.” “We deserve normal, dear,” said Freddie reappearing from his task. “YOU deserve normal especially after Tim.” “Let’s just cross our fingers and hope for the best.” Roger slumped in a dining room chair and ran curious fingers gently over his face. The skin was puffy and achy. Fucking Tim. “I want to change the name of the band.” Freddie regarded his roommate with a serious expression on his face. “What?” Leave it to Mr. Mercury to change things up, Roger thought. “Well, Smile smacks of the Tim era. We just can’t have that can we? New guitarist new name. I even have a symbol.” Freddie whipped out a paper he had been hiding behind his back. “Look, darling. Queen !!” Roger stared at the paper with the-drawing on it.”Queen?” “Why not?it indicates royalty and excess, two things that describe us to a tee.” “Well uh what’s a band without taking chances?” Roger shrugged. Freddie had a point—keeping the name Smile would constantly remind him of Tim and who needed that? “Queen it is.” Brian waited across the street from Roger’s and Freddie’s flat. He had taken an Uber Back over to this neighborhood and had a chance to explore the immediate vicinity around their dwelling. It was fairly straightforward; their flat was the second in a 6 apartment building with a balcony and a shared backyard space. Brian could feel Roger from where he stood, a tall very slender figure in a long black coat with Brian’s mass of dark curls spilling over the upturned collar. Roger’s aroma was intoxicating. Should he bend the rules just to get inside the flat for a preview of being beside his blonde angel? Brian had never acted rashly before. He had always been a very patient observer before he acted. Well perhaps this one time would not hurt. “The pizza has arrived!” Roger happily ran down the steps with money in hand. Freddie was busy setting out plates for their feast and Roger felt his mouth water at the thoughts of some hot za. He unlocked the door, opened it and the screen and motioned to the delivery man to step inside as it was way easier to conduct transactions that way. “Come on inside!” That’s all Brian needed to hear. He was not visible to the human eye—it was a trick that he had figured out on his own—so all Roger could see was the Domino’s dude. Brian waited standing beside the young man who was now stuffing the money Roger gave him inside a blue zippered money pouch. “Thanks for the tip.” The delivery driver paused. “Hey I know you. You’re the drummer for that Uni band.” Roger was about to comment when the driver went on. “Too bad you guys have a shit axe man. Your lead has an awesome voice.” The young man jingled his keys in his hands and nodded goodbye. “See ya.” Roger stared after the retreating figure and let the screen slam. “Whatever,” he muttered. He turned and ran up the stairs, Brian close behind him. The scent of the pizza did not overwhelm the pure scent of Roger. His was juniper, sandlewood, brightness with some sorrow mixed in. Brian could drown in it. “Hey Fred, the pizza guy hates Tim. Said we need a new guitarist.” “Did you tip him?” Freddie asked looking up from where he was moving some books off the table so the pizza would fit in the center. Suddenly, Freddie paused brow knitting. “Is there... did you....hmmm” Brian slid into the hallway. Was it possible that Freddie had seen him? That was not possible! Brian had shifted into his shadows and smoke persona a role invisible to the human eye. “What? Spit it out, Freddie!” Roger threw himself down on the chair ignoring the throb of his bruised muscle on his thigh where Tim had hit him. “I just thought I saw....” Freddie’s voice trailed off. “Never mind. Let’s eat!” “Fuck yeah!” Brian watched the diminutive blonde chow down eagerly. Pink lips wrapped around the slices and a perky tongue licked sauce off his mouth. Brian was mesmerized. So beautiful. “So what was that you were saying when I came upstairs?” Roger asked pulling a piece of cheese off the slice of pizza he was holding and shoving it in his mouth. “I dunno. I thought there was someone else with you.” Brian closed his eyes and willed himself to shadow and mist. “You’re dreaming, dude. There was only me.” Roger chuckled. “You know I have a good feeling about this new guy this Brian May guy. He played in Beatles tribute bands.” “As long as he can match the ferocity of Queen, darling,” Freddie said. “Queen... oh yeah our new name.” Roger nodded. Brian decided to explore further. There were four doors in the hallway, one obviously being Freddie’s door and one obviously being Roger’s room. Brian followed his nose and slid through the door to the blonde’s domain. “I had forgotten we aren’t Smile any longer. Screw Tim and his dumb assed mouth design,” Roger scowled. There were 2 pieces of pizza left and both Freddie and Roger reached for a slice. His face was starting to really throb and he knew he’d have a swollen eye soon. Fuck Tim. Roger’s mood darkened. “Finish up and we can get your face under the ice.” Brian heard their conversation as he poked around Roger’s room. His long fingers thumbed through Roger’s eclectic closet, finding women’s blouses and jackets as well as faded jeans of various condition. On the floor of his closet were scattered shoes and boots of various types and many pairs of Chuckies in assorted colours. Over to Roger’s dresser where Brian lovingly ran his hands over the bikini briefs and small boxers in the underwear drawer. The other drawers were full of jumpers, tanks and a few pair of shorts. Brian let his hands run over the unmade bed sheets. Beautiful boy. Brian closed his eyes and envisioned Roger laying in bed wearing a pair of bikinis. “It’s always freezing in here!” Roger sniped as he walked into his bedroom. Brian followed him around as Roger flounced to his closet and shuffled through the clothes with a disgusted snort. Then he turned abruptly and grabbed his quilt again. “I’ve missed you, quilt,” Roger whispered. Brian could see that the hit Tim had pulled to Roger’s temple was spreading into a purple blue bruise. “Freddie!?” Roger disappeared down the hall, blanket trailing behind him. Brian closed his eyes. He felt a bit like an intruder yet his curiosity was so strong that he wanted to just be with this young man to see what made him tick.He glided over to Roger’s desk and carefully opened the drawer. There was a squeaking noise from the wood and Brian froze. Shit! “Roger?” Freddie said with an edge in his voice. “Was that your... desk?” Both boys sat in the living room as if frozen. Then they both jumped up as one and ran down to Roger’s room. The drawer was indeed open but there was nobody in the room. “Fucking weird.” Roger frowned and ruffled through the contents but found nothing missing. He shut it with his hip and walked over to his window overlooking the street. A tall lean figure in a long black coat caught his eye. Brian turned and looked directly at the boy in the window, making the blonde literally jump back from those coal dark eyes. Brian might have been finished there for the night but his and Roger’s story was just beginning.


End file.
